


Settling Debts

by BalefireFlatlands



Category: Mad Max (Video Game 2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2019-09-14 11:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16912278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands
Summary: The Outcrier is not a man who wants to stay beholden to anyone for long.





	Settling Debts

Lectricy was sitting on the edge of the metal platform, legs hanging over the edge, arms against the last rung of the railing. Without the generator on his back he looked slightly less like a piece of living furniture, but he still somehow managed to exude the feeling of being untouchable, of being property. No one ever approached him, not that he’d talk to them anyway.

One person who didn’t care what everyone else did was striding up the metal staircase. Hair in disarray underneath goggles pushed onto his head, sporting a grizzled beard and wearing a leather jacket, the Road Warrior managed to look unimposing and aggressive at the same time.

His eyes fell on the generator boy, “Where’s your boss?” He realized that ‘boss’ probably wasn’t the right term for what the Outcrier was to this kid, but any other variation of that was too uncomfortable to say out loud.

Lectricy looked up at him before pointing at the small room behind the Outcrier’s desk. Muffled yelling could be heard, most of which sounded like the voice of the races himself. Max grunted, those colorless eyes were incredibly unsettling, like he was seeing way more than what was right in front of him, pupils hugely dilated from huffing.

Max turned his gaze to the door, “He’s in a mood.” That wasn’t even a question, but the boy nodded in response, turning back to looking out over Gastown. He didn’t even turn around when the man the Outcrier had been yelling at came tumbling out of the room, hand clutched to what would be a black eye very very soon. The Outcrier sped his departure by kicking him down the staircase, before turning around and spotting the new arrival.

“Lightie Boy!” Leaning over his desk he ripped one of the drawers open with more violence than necessary, pulling out a cigar and lighting it, before sitting on the desk. “What do you want?”

“Need to talk to one of your racers.”

“I’m not their keeper.” Though realistically, he pretty much was. “Who’re you looking for?” Snapping at Lectricy he pointed at a set of shelves off to one side. The generator boy obediently got to his feet, bringing the Outcrier a set of smaller slates.

“Bottle Rocket.”

The Outcrier flipped through his race slates, “You tryin’ to get in that cultist with the boat’s good graces?” Yeah, the Outcrier knew about Gutgash and his crazy idea that he’d sail a giant boat away on the ocean when the rains came back. It was the Outcrier’s job to know everything about everyone, knowledge was power, power over the people who came seeking their fortune in the races. He was in an odd situation now where he didn’t have anything to hold over Max, in fact he was probably indebted to him. They were even after the lights since the Outcrier let him into the race, but he’d owed him after the Crow Caller, and a little more after getting rid of Stank, and then a whole hell of a lot for getting Scrotus off his back. Permanently.

Max didn’t respond, didn’t feel he needed to explain himself to the Outcrier. His reasons were his own. The Outcrier huffed, reading one of his sheets and then shoving them back into Lectricy’s arms. “He’ll be racing tomorrow. You know…” Pulling the cigar out of his mouth and puffing out a grey cloud, “If you’re gonna haul his ass back to that wannabe warlord, it’d make a pretty good show to do it during the race.”

Max shook his head, but he was watching Lectricy. The generator boy was standing behind the Outcrier, hips canted over, head slightly lowered, watching him through eyes that were half lidded. “I’m not here to be part of your show.”

“Ah.” Really the Outcrier should have been more annoyed by that, especially after the obnoxious fight he’d just been in with someone who didn’t want to pay up a bet. But he saw the way Max was looking at Lectricy, didn’t even need to turn around to know that his boy was behind him. He knew the kinds of looks the kid could give, could just about make anything look damn sultry. The Outcrier chuckled low, eyed the Road Warrior up and down behind his goggles. Gesturing to Lectricy to put those slates away without even turning to look at him, he lowered his voice to something resembling private, “You want something?”

“No.” But Max’s eyes were following the sway of those hips as the boy obediently did his master’s bidding. There was something undeniably sensual in the way he moved.

“I don’t like having debts, so how’s about we bring our dealings square? Settling even.” He got a grin on his face that was unreadable, sending a rather pointed look towards Max’s crotch, visible even with the goggles. “Race isn’t til tomorrow.”

Max’s eyes flicked between the two of them, unsettled beyond belief by what the Outcrier was offering him. Still, he couldn’t outright deny some of the thoughts that were crashing into his brain. Not responding, he continued to watch Lectricy who responded by stretching languidly and then fixing him with another one of those looks.

Standing, the Outcrier put a hand on Max’s shoulder, getting close so he could speak right in his ear, “I’m a busy man and this offer is good for a limited time only. You want? Now’s the time.” Without waiting for an answer he turned his back on Max and left through a door behind his desk, Lectricy obediently trailing after him.

That was quite a walk the generator boy had. Max groaned, glancing all around suspiciously before following the both of them into what constituted the Outcrier’s private living quarters. Impossibly lavish by Wasteland standards, the man had a bed, something that resembled a couch, and a rug. Not even just a mattress, an actual bed, with a headboard and blankets and everything.

The Outcrier kicked the door closed before he dropped onto the couch, kicking one leg up and arms outstretched along the back. Lectricy had taken the scarf off from around his face and was standing demurely next to the bed, head lowered.

“You can smack him if you want, but don’t you fucking dare draw blood.”

Max just grunted, this situation was far too strange for words, and apparently the Outcrier was just going to sit there and watch him. Probably making sure his property didn’t get damaged. He still had a chance to leave, to walk away from this, but then Lectricy looked up at him and Max found himself next to him, fingers working his pants. He didn’t even know how he’d gotten there.

The generator boy slid out of his pants dropping to his knees so he could reach up and unbuckle Max’s belt, fingers deftly sliding his length out of his pants and stroking him to life. His hands held him in place as he engulfed him, deep throating him in one swift motion before staring to bob his head. Max closed his eyes, a hand falling to stroke the boy’s shorn scalp, fingers caressing the back of his head and encouraging him to move faster. That was nice, it’d been a very long time since he’d had any physical pleasure. Very long.

With a grunt he pulled Lectricy off him and inclined his head to the bed. The kid understood immediately and scrambled onto the bed, rolling onto his back and spreading his legs invitingly. Max shed his jacket, the belt that all his canteens hung off of, and his gloves, but nothing else before climbing onto the bed and crawling over Lectricy. He slid one of his hands from Lectricy’s groin up his chest, marveling at his body, small and slender with skin stretched over tight muscles. Unlike anything else he’d seen in the wasteland.

This close to him it was apparent he wasn’t as young as he looked from afar, obviously not a kid, but definitely significantly younger than the Outcrier. Max was currently pretending the Outcrier wasn’t there, though he knew his eyes were on him. And the Outcrier himself was enjoying the view. He liked showing Lectricy off, bragging about what he had that others didn’t. But he never got to show off all the talents his boy had, the way he could use his mouth, the movement of his body as he got riled up.

It was a good thing he was so well trained, so frequently used by the Outcrier, because Max had no intention of preparing him with his fingers, didn’t even know that lube was an option, another crazy thing that the Outcrier actually owned because he was filthy rich. Max slammed into him, which caused Lectricy to wince, but he didn’t pull away or make any noise. After a few thrusts he pulled his knees up against Max’s side, encouraging him even deeper, arching up into his thrusts. He started to pant, training those clear eyes on Max.

Max growled, roughly digging his fingers into Lectricy’s hips and rolling them over. He was about to put that training to the test. The generator boy didn’t even miss a beat, arching his back and impaling himself on Max’s cock. Pressing his knees tightly against Max’s sides he roughly rode him, blackened fingers flat against Max’s stomach. Max slid his hands to Lectricy’s thighs, running his fingers along the sensitive skin as he was ridden hard by what he could only describe as the Outcrier’s sex slave.

His boy was doing well, making him proud, and the Outcrier had his hand in his pants, slowly stroking himself. He wasn’t about to get off on just watching them, and especially wasn’t going to ruin his pants, but he absolutely enjoyed watching the hard work and effort he put into training Lectricy from an observers perspective. It was difficult to truly appreciate when the boy was writhing all over his lap. And Max was something else, something the Outcrier wouldn’t mind fucking himself, but he knew the wanderer wouldn’t allow that, and he wasn’t in a position to force him. This was the next best thing, a proxy so he could watch the man’s pleasure.

Lectricy had started to moan, small sounds huffed out between the sound of his sweat slicked skin smacking into Max’s pelvis. He ground back at the end of each thrust, aiming the dick lodged inside him against his prostate. He might exist for other people’s pleasure, but he enjoyed getting himself off just as much. Max however; was silent eyes closed, every now and again thrusting up to meet the body crashing down against his.

And then Max was at his cresting point, grabbing Lectricy even rougher than before and slamming him over onto his back. He harshly pulled Lectricy’s thighs up around him, fingers digging in deep enough to bruise, as he pistoned into him hard enough to cause the old springs in the bed to start squeaking. Max didn’t notice, entirely focused on his own pleasure. The only sound that announced his climax was another grunt, his eyes closed, hands still firmly clenched in Lectricy’s legs. Then he let him go, sliding out of him and settling back on his knees.

But Lectricy wasn’t done serving him yet. He shifted around, getting on his hands and knees to lick the man clean before settling back on the bed, still looking incredibly alluring. Max opened his eyes, that had been good. More than good. But now Max wasn’t sure what to do. Telling the kid ‘Thanks’ just seemed weird, so he reached out a hand stroking his cheek with his thumb and then caressed the side of his face, giving his head a few strokes before zipping himself back up and standing.

The Outcrier had a strange half-smirk on his face as he stood as well, both proud of Lectricy and also incredibly aroused. Max gathered up his things, suddenly feeling awkward, but determined not to show it. The Outcrier didn’t see anything wrong in fucking and leaving though so he put an arm around Max’s shoulder, walking him back out to the platform.

“We square?”

“Yeah. We’re even.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Lightie Boy.” His smirk grew, watching Max leave before turning to go back to his room and locking the door behind him. Lectricy was sitting on the bed, conscious of a job well done and he looked up at the older man hopefully. “Yeah yeah, you did good.” He dropped onto the bed, pulling off his goggles and vest before Lectricy was crawling into his lap, wrapping his arms around him and burying his head in his chest.

“Alright. That’s enough.” His boy got incredibly clingy after being used, something the Outcrier only allowed him to indulge in occasionally. Lectricy pulled back and pouted, letting out a huff and the Outcrier rolled his eyes. The Outcrier had plenty of practice denying him things in the face of that pathetic pouty look, but it was hard to do it now when he was feeling pretty good about himself, proud of Lectricy’s ability.

With a sigh the Outcrier stretched out on the bed and motioned Lectricy back. The generator boy took the invitation, rolling completely on top of him and laying contentedly against his chest. The speaker for the races had plenty he still needed to do today, but it could wait. He’d let Lectricy lay there for a while before using him himself then going back to work. Maybe let the kid huff some of the good stuff and sleep the rest of the night away. Yeah, he could be generous, especially after that performance.


End file.
